


On the Slope

by jyuanka



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-22 03:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10689285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyuanka/pseuds/jyuanka
Summary: A Series of one shots about Leorio's childhood, friends, and various relationships.





	1. Water

“ **Leorio!** ”

Alda Paladiknight’s shout, closer to the roar of a lion than to the voice of a human, called out for her son. “Take your share of bottles and follow your sisters right away! The water truck is here.” she urged him, hands on her hips, expression stern but not particularly threatening. “Quickly! The bottles are in the kitchen.”

She watched as her youngest son sprinted before her from his daydreams and pulled his undershirt over his head, and she followed him as he snatched the bottles from the kitchen and shot out of the apartment. “Don’t you dare drop any of it, you hear me?”

The little boy ran through the streets, the cool morning breeze blowing through his undershirt, and once he spotted his two sisters, he skipped towards them, balancing the empty bottles under his arms. His sister Leen smiled at him, pumping her still empty bucket against her knees. 

There were many people huddled together around the truck, waiting for their share of water; there was no queue and no order, people shouted, argued, pushed one another out of the way, and shoved their empty containers in the trucker’s face.

Leorio, being a small, lean fellow, slid among the crowds, taking the lead before his sisters, raising the bottles he carried over his head, sidestepping feet and daftly avoiding wild hand movements. People really forget themselves whenever the water truck arrives, and he knew no one is gonna help if he fell or injured himself, and so the conduct was to always look unfazed and act it. No survival for pushovers, that’s what his mom says.

The water trucker lifted his head after closing the faucet to one of the water tanks, and his eyes widened in delight. “Oh boy you sure keep sprouting up!” he laughed, taking one of bottles from Leorio’s hand and sticking its neck under the faucet. “Every time I see you you’re a bit taller than before. You’re as tall as me now!” Leorio grinned, taking one full bottle and handing the man another. “But you see, I’m a short man!” Leorio rolled his eyes while the guy laughed at a joke he had already said five times before.

The man gave him the bottle and took the last one from his smaller hands, and Leorio watched as clean water cascaded down his bottle, filling it to the brim. After his load was filled, he balanced one under his armpit, and carried the other two clutched between his fingers. He stood to the side, waiting for his sisters to get their turn so they can go back together.

The water truck, driven by Mr. Su, came once every week, and it’s the only time when people probably appreciated having many family members. More people meant more water for a single household, and that was never a bad thing. You had to be strong enough and fast enough and daft enough to get more water than the rest, but that hardly meant that you could spend an entire week in the bliss of water security. The last two days before a week ended were always difficult, especially when there was not enough water to clean or wash or even drink, sometimes.

That’s why, when a familiar man with a mellow face appeared behind the crowds, Leorio ran to him. “Mr. Tono!”

The man graced him with a bright morning smile. “Good morning Leorio.” He balanced a heavy-looking bucket with a hand that already held a large can to pat the boy’s head. “How are you today?”

“Do you need help?” Leorio offered enthusiastically. “I can carry one more bottle.”

To make sure the man believed him, he carefully moved a bottle from one hand to the other, waving his now free hand in the other’s face.

Mr. Tono shook his head. “No it’s fine, you’re already carrying a lot.”

“No it’s alright.” Leorio insisted. “I’m strong see?” he flexed the muscles in his free arm, and that got him a delighted guffaw from the man in front of him.    

“You’re strong alright. Here, carry this one, it’s Pietro’s bottle.”

Leorio knew not to ask where the man’s son was, because he already knew the answer, but that didn’t stop him from eagerly taking the bottle and walking back to the crowds around the water truck. Once he was finished, he held on to his four bottles and waited for Pietro’s dad to emerge from the crowds, even when his sisters, now also finished, passed by him, throwing him knowing, pointed glances. Leorio ignored them and waited a bit more.

“So, your sister is leaving tomorrow, huh.” Mr. Tono said.

Leorio nodded, walking by the man’s side. “We’ll get to visit her in the city, so that’s really great.”

He glanced at the bucket and the plastic can in the man’s hands, and his mouth automatically curled downward into a sad scowl. “I’m sorry I can’t come with you today, I have to help in the house.”

Pietro’s dad waved him off. “Don’t apologize for nothing. Pietro knows you’re busy.” He looked down, smiling at the boy at his side. “You’re a very good boy, Leorio. I truly appreciate your presence by Pietro’s side, he’s always better when you’re around.”

That made Leorio feel awful instead of good. He hadn’t been around for several days now, busy with the affairs of his newly-wed sister. He really wanted to see his friend, but he felt a responsibility towards his family and knew that Pietro wouldn’t really mind. It still hurt a little, though.

“Go now, I’ll carry the water.” The man said, not leaving a chance for Leorio to object before taking the bottle from his hand.

Leorio frowned. “Are you sure? I can carry it.”

“No your mom needs you, now go.” He walked ahead, nodding to Leorio since he couldn’t wave. “Stay strong kid, goodbyes are very hard affairs.”

Leorio stared at the man’s back as he swerved inside an alley and away from the boy’s sight. Leorio quickened his pace, wanting to catch up with his sisters before they arrived to the house, and when he saw the long brown braid of Salma, he ran towards it.

His second eldest sister shot him an annoyed glance once he fell in step beside them. “Didn’t mom tell you to stop hanging out with that man?”

He shrugged. “I was just helping, he was carrying all the water by himself.”

Leen huffed. “We carry the water by ourselves too I don’t see you helping us.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. His mom really didn’t like Pietro’s dad, and no matter how much Leorio reasoned with her about it, she was firm in her beliefs about the man.  

Leorio was twelve now, he was old enough to notice things he had been blind to when he was younger, he was old enough to be more aware of people and their words and actions, of the meaning of their different attitudes, and his mother respected that to the point where she was pretty straightforward with him about why Mr. Tono wasn’t the best company. He understood her reasons, on some level, but he didn’t obey her, and felt no small amount of guilt for valuing his immediate experience over her motherly concerns. She let him off the hook sometimes only because of Pietro, since no matter how much she huffed and buffed, she actually liked the boy, and was genuinely distraught and sad over his situation.

Salma waved to the old woman sitting in front of her house. “Hey Mrs. Vern.”

The old lady sucked at her cigarette, unimpressed by the three children walking past her, gazing at the water containers burdening them. “Tell your parents about the rent, it’s been a week already.”

Salma replied with an awkward, ashamed nod, and shot her younger siblings glances urging them to walk faster toward the staircase. Leorio skipped quickly to hide behind Leen, shielding himself from the woman’s cold blue eyes.

When they were away from her stare, Leen chuckled. “She’s really cranky today, right Salma?”

Leorio giggled at the comment, but Salma didn’t answer, she was climbing the stairs ahead of them, her arms burdened with the heaviest load. She kicked the apartment’s door open and hurried toward the kitchen, dumping her load and zipping to the room where they all slept.

He left his mom and Leen talking about something while he followed his sister to the room, finding it a good moment to share some of the candy he bought with the few extra Jennies he had on him the other day. However, when he entered the room, his eyes met angry ones red with tears.

“Get the fuck out.” She hissed at him.

Leorio considered leaving her but then decided against it, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him. “I have candy.” He whispered, pulling the rounded treats from his pocket and offering them to her.

Her eyes grew wide and furious. “You dumb idiot.” She groaned. “They’re going to kick us out of the house and you go and buy candy like we have money.”

The gravity of the situation didn’t pass entirely over his head, yet he ignored her comment and sauntered closer towards her. “So? That’s my own money I earned it myself.” 

The unintended implications of his own comment, however, did escape him. He only realized how it hurt his sister when she violently shoved him away from her. Only then did it hit him.

Salma has lost her job, a week ago when the lady she worked for left the neighborhood to settle somewhere else, and since then she couldn’t look their mother in the eye. She’s been adamant about finding another job, but there were so little a girl can do in a poverty belt surrounding the city, other than go to the city itself, that is, and their mother refused to even consider that idea, no matter how much Salma was capable and self-reliant.

Nothing scared his mother more than the city. She could barely handle one daughter permanently going there, much less two, especially one who lacked the security of a husband and a house.

Salma was his favorite sister. Just like him, in both appearance and disposition. Prideful, easy to anger, quick to forgive, and ridiculously prone to tears. It seemed one comment about unpaid rent was enough to prick and slash at her. Another comment about Leorio, a twelve year old, being able to make his own money while she, an eighteen year old -and his big sister- couldn’t, also hurt her.

Still, Leorio nudged the handful of candy towards her. “I’m sorry. After Arcilla leaves tomorrow, I’ll look for a job with you, ok?”

Salma regarded him for a moment, her eyes, a little darker than his, browner than his, glinted with unshed tears. “Idiot.” She took a piece of candy from his hand. “Promise to never buy this shit again. It’s unnecessary and we don’t need it.”

Leorio shrugged, watching her pop the sugary pink ball in her mouth. “It really puts you in a good mood though.”

She wiped her tears, swallowing a giggle before it escaped. “Yeah it does.”

The two grinned at each other, one a reflection of the other, and hid their candy when their mother’s impatient, loud uttering of their names jolted them to the kitchen to help.

It was going to be a long day.   


	2. Arrival

Leorio stood under a sun that hated his guts. His small body was stout, lean, sporting scratches and scars and little scraps yet to heal, that of a boy who played a lot and ran a lot and laughed a lot. His hand was shielding his eyes from the sun, and he was staring at the new arrivals ahead on the dirt road.

Their little slum was busy at all times, crowded and barely contained, so new people arriving here was an interesting occurrence. He observed the figure that stepped down from the passenger seat in the small white truck; the man wasn’t very tall, his brown hair matted down his forehead from sweat, his overalls smudged with grease and dirt.

The sunburned boy watched the man as he strolled ahead, throwing random glances around, adjusting what appeared to be a towel over his neck, and just at the moment when Leorio was beginning to lose interest, their eyes met.

The man signaled to him with an enthusiastic wave. “Hey there,”

Leorio threw glances around himself, just to make sure he was the one being talked to. When he realized the street was empty, he raised his arm in awkward acknowledgment. “Hi!” he shouted back, a little louder than was necessary.

“Would you like to help us? We’re new here.”

He nodded, but it meant nothing from such distance, so he jogged towards the man and his truck. When they were finally face to face, the man’s expression fell into a disappointed scowl. “How old are you?”

“Ten.”

“Well I got to say you looked much older from far away.” Leorio huffed, but the man snickered, extending a hand to the kid. “I’m Tono, and the sleeping - _sack of potatoes-_ in the trunk is my son Pietro.”

As if in cue, a small kid, certainly around Leorio’s age, perked his head from the trunk, his brow narrowed in mock annoyance. “Old man, why you gotta?”

“For the love of our Holy Mother, you’ve been sleeping there for quite a while don’t you think?” the man shot back, taking off the towel from around his neck and throwing it at the boy’s face. “Pick up your ass, we got work.”

The man suddenly remembered Leorio’s existence, shifting his eyes from one kid to the other. “What was your name, you said?”

“Leorio!” he exclaimed. “Leorio Paladiknight.”

The man chuckled. “Well, Leorio Paladiknight, do you happen to know of a Mr…” and he fished around in his pockets, taking out a small piece of paper. “A Mr. Shuman.” He smiled brightly. “He’s the guy who’s supposed to give us the keys to our new home.”

Leorio nodded. “Yeah I do, everyone does.”

The two beamed at him. He noticed how alike they were. Mr. Tono skipped back to his truck and bounced unto the driver’s seat while his son hopped down from the trunk and took a seat beside him from the other side.

The two stared at him.

“Hop on.” The man invited him with a grin. “Or did you change your mind?”

Leorio shook his head and ran to the truck, taking the hand Pietro offered in order to climb to the passenger seat beside him. That was the second time in his life inside a truck. He’d been on trucks plenty of times before, in their trunks, that is.

The place was very small, so he and Pietro were pressed against each other, but that didn’t stop the other boy from maneuvering around to fish inside his pockets and flash what appeared to be a deck of cards. “Wanna see it? Those are not regular cards, it’s Uno.”

“Uno?”

Pietro pressed his lips. “You don’t know how to play it?” Leorio shook his head. He didn’t. “I can teach you if you want to.”

“Yeah!”

After a moment, Leorio asked. “Do you know how to play football?” The other boy shook his head. “I can teach you if you want to.”

The two boys seemed to reach a satisfying agreement to exchange their experiences, so now Pietro was showing Leorio the colorful cards, telling him the basic rules and recounting past glories of Uno victories.

“I appreciate you two getting along, but Leorio, eyes on the road.” Pietro’s father reminded him, then he mumbled. “The roads here sure are tricky. I hope there’s at least a place near the new home to park the truck.”

Leorio pointed for him to swerve left, and widened his eyes in amazement at the man’s driving skills. Or lack thereof. They almost crashed into a wall. “Is the truck really yours?” he asked, his voice a little shaky.

“Yep.” The man smiled as he continued driving down a straight path. “She’s part of the family, we call her Sunny.” Leorio giggled. “And there’s another member, too. Saul the refrigerator.”

Leorio let out a resounding laugh, and the man continued speaking. “Those two are the only things Pietro and I have, besides our clothes.”   

“Left then right.” Leorio instructed, grasping the edge of the window while the wretched truck pumped and tipped and struggled through boorish, narrow streets. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable at what he felt was a high altitude. He felt so far away from the ground, but the other two appeared quite unfazed by a road that was certainly not constructed to let vehicles in.

He wanted to ask where they came from, but was too embarrassed to do so. Their accents confirmed that they weren’t even from the city, but probably lived in it for a while, since Pietro’s accent was a bit different from his father, which he probably picked it as a boy growing up in the city. Mr. Tono had a weird, distinct accent, like his voice was more fit for singing than talking, while Pietro sounded more like what Leorio was used to hearing.

People here didn’t come from one place. The slums and ‘tin and brick jungles’ surrounding the city were always diverse, its inhabitants arriving from all over the country and beyond. Leorio knew that many of them were refugees escaping from far away conflicts, or immigrants who wanted a better chance but for some reason ended up with none; the banished, the outlaw, the divorced, the disowned, the runaway, the scammers, the cons, even so called witches and sorcerers who spoke of past lives and gruesome medieval murders, they all lived here.

“We’re here!” Leorio shouted when they passed the small alley where Mr. Shuman lived. Their driver backtracked and stopped, much to the annoyance of the two vendors he ended up with their shops obscured behind his truck. 

Mr. Tono stuck his head out of the car to inspect his parking achievement, and saw two very displeased faces looking at him. He didn’t address their peeves. “Pardon me, gentlemen, do you happen to know where Mr. Shuman lives? He and I signed a contract two days ago, for an apartment.”         

One of the men tilted his head to the side. “You must be Saler…”

“Antonio Salera, that’s me.” Pietro’s dad gave the other two men an enthusiastic nod. “Can you tell me where he is so we can consummate our deal?”

The other man sized them up and down. “Of course.”

Mr. Tono turned off the car engine and turned to the two boys beside. “Have a problem waiting for me here?” the two shook their heads in unison. “Alright then! It won’t take long, hopefully.”

With that, the short man existed the car, followed by a pair of curious eyes. Leorio turned to the boy beside him. “So why do you wanna live here?”

Pietro shrugged his shoulders, not meeting Leorio’s gaze, instead busying himself with shuffling the card deck in his hand. “We got a house in the city, but Mom kicked dad out of the house, and I left with him.”

“Oh.”

Pietro shrugged again, turning to Leorio and offering him a smile. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Three sisters and one brother.” Leorio answered. “You?”

“None.”

“Cool!” Leorio exclaimed. “I wish I was like that too.”

Pietro shrugged, it seemed to be a habit of his. “You don’t like them?”

“No I do, but they’re annoying sometimes.”

Pietro shuffled the card deck once more. “You got a school here?”

“Yeah.”

“You go to it?”

“Yeah, sometimes.”

Pietro widened his eyes in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah?”

Pietro snorted in delight. “And your mom says nothing?”

Awkwardness settled in Leorio’s face and shoulders. “N-no… she should?”

The freckled boy wiggled in his seat and turned his body towards his companion. “My mom schooled me at home. She’s very smart, says schools in the city don’t care ‘bout students’ religion, so she pulled me out but also cause I get very sick sometimes. So what’s school like here? You got a church too?”

Leorio stood still under the weight of Pietro’s endless questions, and made an effort to tell the boy everything he knew about the town, and himself. Pietro was a curious little thing, and Leorio enjoyed boasting about his expansive knowledge of the place. They went back and forth until Mr. Tono came back, and entered the truck in a huff.

“Not two minutes here and people already inviting me to church.” The man murmured in dismay, slamming the door beside him and turning the engine, and moving the truck backwards without even glancing behind him. “I already escaped one religious nut in my life.”

The two boys were silent until Pietro spoke. “It worked?”

“Of course it did.” His father replied without looking at him, then his scowl disappeared and his expression mellowed out. “We’ll drive to the other side of the building and then we’ll get our stuff up, okay?”

“Okay.”

Leorio stuck his head outside the window and closed his eyes against the cool breeze. He didn’t like the heavy silence that befell the truck, or how Pietro huddled in his seat and stopped trying to make conversation. He felt foreign and unwelcomed, but then Mr. Tono called his name and smiled.

“Hey Leorio, if you like I can drive you home.”

Even though he really wished to remain in the truck with his head stuck out of the window, because he liked the feeling of the air stinging his skin when the truck moved fast, his home wasn’t far away, and he didn’t want to spend more time with them; it felt odd and heavy and he didn’t like odd and heavy, so he just shook his head.

“Thanks but my home is close, I’ll walk.”

Mr. Tono nodded, and they waited till they reached the other side of the building. When the truck stopped, Leorio opened the door and hopped out.

“Thanks for the help.” Mr. Tono said. “We’ll see you around, no?”

Leorio nodded, and exchanged one last smile with Pietro before turning around and making his way towards his home. When he was sufficiently far away from them, he stopped to take a breath, and was glad that lightness returned to his chest.

Nevertheless, he hoped to see Pietro again.


	3. Kings

Cidro Paladiknight was not a talkative man. He would sit in his favorite chair at the kitchen table, under the small window, and he would smoke his cigarettes in silence, waiting for dinner to be ready. He never took active part in house chores, and the children of this family doubted his ability to do so. He was tall with broad shoulders and a pair of deep-set eyes that rarely glanced anywhere but ahead, and if you wanted to speak with him, you had to walk right up to his face and demand his attention.

He chose to sit alone most of the time, and sometimes he would forget his unsmoked cigarette dangling between his lips until his wife patted him gently on the back and reminded him to join them for food.

 _“He wasn’t always like this.”_ Alda Paladiknight tells her children when her husband is away working in the automobile factory. The three youngest had no reason to believe her words, they had never seen him any other way, except Salma, sometimes, but she only saw his anger. When his frozen expression broke, it was mostly in fiery, at her, and for the smallest of reasons. When his anger seeped through the cracks, it was she who always took the brunt of it. She learned to handle it and move on, because the smallest comeback on her part would only increase his anger, so she would hang her head down and ignore the hurt, and keep a distance from him until he calmed down.

Leorio, too, with time, learned to keep a distance. He stopped speaking to him, for there was nothing to gain back; he failed at raising anger or raising affection and he finally gave up. He would come to realize that he was brought to this world as replacement, for a son who ran away, and that he utterly failed at it.

Adan ran away with a woman and broke his parents’ hearts, Leorio was born and failed at amending their hearts, an implicit duty he had no idea fell on him. He loved his parents nonetheless, and knew that they loved him, too, but not as much as the lost son, never as much. He was not blond and pretty like Adan, didn’t have the striking emerald eyes or the dashing smile or the academic brilliance; he was Leorio, a boy with a dirty blue undershirt who liked to skip school and play football barefooted and listen to their neighbor play the harmonica. He picked dirt from under his nails and had to be dragged by the arm to take a shower.

In a world that wasn’t providing much affection to a boy brimming with it, Leorio had to learn to like himself. There were few alternatives, really; either spend the rest of your life wilting under your parents disappointment or utilize what you already have, and try to forget that everyone wanted you to be something else, and what Leorio had were strong arms and a way with people.

From a young age, he was working, and even though the money rarely remained in his hands to do with it whatever he wanted, he enjoyed the sense of independence provided by work. He made friends with older people, he sneaked his way into working with passing trucks and grumpy grandmas and irritable store clerks who had no qualms about haggling with a child over work payments. He was growing and shaping into something comprehensible, something he could look in the mirror at and find a name for and be pleased with himself.

The future he saw for himself consisted mainly of doing freelance gigs with Pietro at day, and at night, drinking beer at ol’ man Randall’s pub and picking up girls and maybe occasionally visit the city for fun sometimes, just the two of them.

Just the two of them. With Pietro, any future was feasible, they could even join a gang (they already had a gang with few other boys and girls but everyone were losers, except the two of them, of course).

Leorio’s favorite job, though, was accompanying Pietro and Mr. Tono to pick up all the trash in the town, load it in the truck, and take it to the city to sell it for recycling. The money was not bad at all, and the city was mesmerizing. Everything existed there, and he saw more things than he could name. There were 24 hour electricity and running water, organized signs and paved roads and huge buildings.

In those trips, he and Pietro were not allowed to wander around, in fear of getting lost, but they sure as hell were allowed to sit atop the trash pile in the trunk and observe the city move before their wild, curious eyes. Smartly dressed ladies, men in crazy summer shirts, children in colorful hats and shiny hair and the two took it all in, and looked at it with the same wondrous eyes every time.

There was something magical about holding the real world at the fingertips, a mountain of trash you rule over is that only thing separating you from it. There was something fascinating about holding it so close, and yet standing there, unable to plunge your hand it.

They called the city the Real World because the mini-city they came from was its protruding and undesirable love handle. That was an affectionate name, because the two boys liked Jermana, the jumbled mass of concrete houses and tin roofs and wooden windows and dirty streets and entire days of no electricity and water. It spoke to them on a personal level, spoke to their messy, fussy selves, and to their expansive hearts, sneaking outside the parent vessel to become their own thing. Jermana was a rebellious place, poor and aggressive, and it punished its neglectful parent by infringing on its personal space and sending its sons and daughters in hordes to occupy squares of every single job. 

That was them; that was Leorio and Pietro, the Two Kings of the Trash Pile, identifying strongly with what they considered an independent, sovereign land. Jermana was their home, and it would be a long time until one of them was to be buried in it, and the other, abandoning it, forever.  


	4. Shorts

Leorio was undergoing a heated staring contest with Mrs. Vern. The landlady was no slouch, but neither was he. At least that’s what he liked to pretend.

The two of them were on opposite sides of her kitchen, he standing beside Salma, waiting for her to finish her phone call, Mrs. Vern sitting at her round, plastic kitchen table, her slender, manicured fingers pulling a cigarette from between her lips; her blue eyes were icy, and Leorio struggled to match the intensity of her gaze.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be there.” Salma’s voice came from above him, only then did he break eye contact with the grouchy gremlin. “Yes, of course, tomorrow at seven. Thank you, thank you very much.”

With that his sister hung up the phone and turned around with a huge smile on her face. “They hired me!”

Leorio returned her smile. “Really?”

Salma crouched down and wrapped her arms around him. “Yes!” she raised her head and held his face between her hands. “Mr. Dervad said they liked me a lot, I just need to practice a little. Anyway, it’s just talking on the phone, how hard could it be?” and she hugged him again. When she spoke, her voice shook a little. “Thanks Leorio, you’re always there for me.”

He sank into her embrace. “You’re welcome.”

Salma stood up and tucked curls of brown thick hair behind her ears, and turned around to face their landlady. “I’m sorry for always bothering you with the telephone, with my first payment I’ll repay you I promise.”

The gray-haired woman shook her head. “I don’t want it, so consider using my telephone a favor.” His sister opened her mouth to argue, but Mrs. Vern shut her down. “Leave before I change my mind.”

Salma bit her lip and looked embarrassed. “Alright, fine, thanks again.” She took his hand and they zipped through the small apartment and out to the open air.

When they were outside on the street, they both took a long breath, and sauntered along the road beside each other. Salma took huge steps, hair messy around her head, hands clasped behind her back, her long skirt making waves in the breeze. She was tall and proud, and her face glistened under the sunlight.

“Leorio, is there something you’d like to have?”

He shook his head, widening his steps to catch up to her. “No nothing.”

Salma glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Nothing?” he nodded, she turned to face him with one perfectly arched brow. He always wondered how she did that. “Really now, you got _nothing_ on your mind?” she spoke in a singsong voice. “Shoes, shirt, shorts, hmm, nothing?”

Leorio stared at his feet. He can’t ask her to bring him anything, she’s yet to be payed and they were already deciding to spend money on unnecessary things. For him. Salma had no reason to buy anything, really, but that didn’t mean he wanted nothing. He wanted many things, mostly a new pair of shoes, but those were the most expensive, so he couldn’t ask them from her.

“Shorts.” He whispered, eyes still downcast.

Salma pouted. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

Leorio glanced up at her. “Shorts.”

She smiled. “You sure?”

He nodded. “Yep.”

“Blue you like them, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Blue shorts it is, then.”

 


End file.
